


Indirect Stimuli

by Blackberry



Series: Behindhand [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anxiety, Asexual Sherlock, BDSM topics, Curious Sherlock, Doctor John Watson, Failed Masturbation, Immobilization, Intense Sensations, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Platonic Cuddling, Sexual Experimentation, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock kind of asks for it, TLC, Trust Issues, touch issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:32:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4181682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackberry/pseuds/Blackberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock learns some things about his own sexuality by trying to watching John. He actively tries to gather knowledge about masturbation, but John is having issues with the idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sherlock spots a need

**Author's Note:**

> The characters are not mine, no copyright infringement intended. Just playing.  
> This is part of a series, to understand what is happening reading the other parts would be a good idea.

“John, you look as if you need to wank.”

“What?” John almost choked on his toast.

“You are obviously on heat. The signs are quite visible.”

“What the hell…?” John stammered. ” _How_ exactly are they visible?”

“You are irritable, wearing loose underwear, haven’t released sexual tension in seven days, which is longer than usual and you…”

“Shit!” John threw his slice of toast back onto his plate.

“Was my deduction wrong?”

“Could you stop analyzing my sex life!”

“As far as I see it you currently have none, which is the point of my statement.”

“Not good, Sherlock!”

“Oh… Inappropriate?”

“Quite.”

“Why? Last week you had a runny nose, you pointed out it was required social interaction to ask for the a friend’s well being. I asked, you answered, this is the same. Didn’t you tell me kind behavior was about showing interest in other human being’s physical state?”

“No… Yes… _No_! It’s not as if we’re discussing a medical condition here.” But then John stopped himself, rethinking. “Shit, it _is_ for you, that’s why you think it is for me, too, right?”

Sherlock nodded with a ’so-what’ expression on his face.

“Please, don’t drop bombs on me like that, especially not as long as Mrs. Hudson is within hearing range!” John whispered loudly, though not loud enough for their landlady to hear, who had just vanished down the stairs.

“Besides, it is no business of yours how often I wank.”

“Your masturbation cycle has never been as long as in the past two months.”

John puckered his lips and rested his face in his hand, not sure if he was about to blush, he certainly fought the urge to run away.

But Sherlock had been open to him about his sexuality before and he had agreed to be, too, for the purpose of education.

 _Maybe he was putting_ ‘ _it’ off for as long as possible these days because he was afraid of having to share it?_

“Since it is overdue I wanted to ask to sit in on it.”

“Didn’t I tell you that _if_ I decide to let you observe, it would _totally_ be my choice?”

“Does that mean I’m not supposed to ask?… The choice is still yours if I ask… Oh, you meant I had to wait until you… offered?” The detective didn’t wait for an answer. ”That would never happen so I ignored that path of action.”

“Blimey! I need to get to work.”

John hurried to finish his meal and then fled the flat.

The moment he closed the front door he wondered if this conversation had actually taken place because _Sherlock_ experienced a need and this was his way of uttering it.

 

When John returned in the evening Sherlock was working on his laptop.

John had had time to think about the whole thing. Maybe Sherlock was right, he’d never offered it by himself, contact anxiety probably. But mostly he was afraid that this might ruin the friendship they had, and he was not at all ready to risk that.

Though the past months had shown that they were totally able to go back to ’normal housemates’ or friends after it. John wondered if this was plain avoidance on his side, for Sherlock it was obviously a bodily function like all the others that were plaguing him, like hunger, growing fingernails or the need to pee.

There was one other thing Sherlock was right about, he needed to take care of his arousal. Yesterday, he had felt randy already, but was so tired he dozed off before he had the chance to act on it. But the last thing he needed right now was a spectator, he had never done this when not alone, was not sure he even could.

Though he was sure it was necessary to actually teach Sherlock how to wank, the genius detective seemed to have a problem of unknown origin with the act itself and had also not been too delighted when John had touched his prick before.

 _They were beyond the point of intimacy already, where was the fucking problem?_ John asked himself.

John had pleased Sherlock’s sexual needs.

_Why was the idea so difficult for him to just let the other man watch? Maybe because both times it was kind of a medical need that started the whole thing. There was no need here now, it was just Sherlock being curious, or wasn’t it?_

Which also meant this could be awkward, Sherlock would treat it as a science experiment. At least - if he was actually asking for permission to watch - that might provide an easier start than he could have hoped for, according to both their difficulties with the theme.

John realized he had thought about it the whole day. He wasn’t as shocked as he had been in the morning any longer, though far away from really ready.

Yes, he had offered weeks ago, and the topic was still unsettling, their sexuality mixing. He was still partially horrified about the whole idea.

But now John stood there and although he had made the decision before, he didn’t know if he could go through with it or how to start.

Normally, when wanting sexual activity with a date, he’d talk and kiss and sexual tension would build up, but they weren’t a couple and kissing was out of the question for John and he didn’t know how to start or if at all, and he had never done this with a male partner.

If he just made an appointment with Sherlock for 2200 hours he’d get mad with the clinical-ness and formidableness until then… and that would kill all arousal that might have been there for days.

The thought of Sherlock watching made something in him recoil, but over the day he had discovered that he had thought about how to explain the process to Sherlock, figured out what to do and to say, so in a way some aspect of his mind must want this and was even prepared.

It was an odd discovery he made about himself, partially frightening and partially curiosity.

It would be necessary for Sherlock to learn if his sex drive would resurface regularly from now. For that’s sake he’d let Sherlock watch, maybe even try to encourage him to imitate him, and make Sherlock familiar with the feeling of touching himself. Maybe a bit guidance and encouragement was all he needed.

He realized he had stood there, next to Sherlock, for quite some time, so long in fact that Sherlock had stopped typing and was now looking up at him.

“John?”

“Er….”

“You made a decision.”

“Is this a question caused by an arising need of your own body or is it simply because you see my need?” John asked without introduction

“Seeing yours.”

So, that was at least not the usual selfishness he was used from his friend.

“Yeah, OK.”

“So, what is it? What will we do next?”

“I just said it, yes,” John rolled his eyes, having no clue what might happen next.

“Bed or bathroom?” Sherlock stood up.

“What?”

“You usually masturbate in the shower or in your bed, so which one do you prefer?”

“Shit.” John rubbed his flat hands over his face.

_Was nothing private here? Why was he still thinking anything was? Privacy with that genius brain at work was an illusion._

John turned and headed for the bathroom to fetch a towel, his heartbeat uncomfortably intense. Maybe they should do this in Sherlock’s room, his own would not work, he was sure.

“I don’t want to see you watch me. Stay out of my line of sight. I can’t concentrate if you stare at my private parts.”

Sherlock followed him into the bathroom.

“Isn’t this kind of an odd attitude for a physician?”

“Doctors are like anybody else, they don’t like their genitalia inspected.”

“What is the point in _not_ watching the object I am supposed to study?”

John rolled his eyes and noted that right now _he_ was the one thinking about sex as if having a tooth pulled.*

“What is the towel for?” Sherlock took it out of John’s hands and checked it’s size, clearly already storing every detail.

“Give me that towel. Get out.”

“Where am I supposed to be then?” Sherlock was obviously getting unnerved about how difficult John was.

“I will shower _alone_ first… I don’t know.” He took the towel back.

“You don’t want this, do you?” Sherlock asked suspiciously.

“No, I don’t, not like this, because _this_ is awkward.”

“What am I…” The detective started.

“No! I… sorry… I can’t…” John threw the towel back into Sherlock’s arms, rushing past him. “Not like this! Not now! Ask me later.”

_Some aspect of him felt sorry but he could not do it like this!_

The doctor shoved Sherlock out of the bathroom door and turned on the shower.

The whole thing had been so embarrassing he wouldn’t have managed an erection even if he had wanted to. This time John was actually wishing he could delete something and wondered if Sherlock already had.

He went to bed early.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

_* In the first two stories of the series John thinks that sex must be for Sherlock like having teeth pulled._

 


	2. Experimenting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters are not mine, no copyright infringement intended. Just playing.  
> This is part of a series, to understand what is happening reading the other parts would be a good idea.

When John came out of his room the next morning he found a post-it-note on the fridge.

‘Would it be easier if I just joined you when you had already started with an ‘release-exercise’?’ was written on it in Sherlock’s neat handwriting.

John briefly leaned his head against the fridge. This was getting more and more unnerving.

 

John ripped the note off and shoved it into his pocket, no need that Mrs. Hudson would see this. The doctor spend one more day thinking about the whole thing, until he finally - during a coffee break - took out the yellow note. When he read the message again he realized this was actually a tactful way to ask for a way to make the whole thing easier on John. Since the detective seemed to know quite well when he was ’busy’ it might make things in fact a lot easier. Maybe it would be interesting to see if Sherlock was indeed able to tell as accurately as he pretended to be when John was getting off.

He scribbled a ’yes, fine’ under the question.

The same evening he left the note on the fridge, he still was a bit in need for release, but couldn’t convince himself to do something about it, afraid Sherlock might come in.

Two weeks passed and John had wanked twice without Sherlock trying to participate. The doctor was convinced by then that Sherlock was not able to tell at all if he was in fact busy doing it or not.

That was until Saturday, when John woke with an early-morning-hard-on. He decided to get rid of it and then have a shower.

He had just dragged his pants away under the blanket and fumbled for some lube and towels he kept in the nightstand while starting to rub when a careful knock on the door made him flinch.

John closed his eyes, feeling caught and embarrassed, he needed almost a minute until he managed to answer.

“Fine. Come in.”

Without hesitation Sherlock stepped into the room and sat on the bed next to him, which actually made him feel like he was sick and somebody was taking care of him.

He was half sitting, leaned against the headboard.

“Don’t sit in my line of sight.” John instructed and closed his eyes.

Wordless, Sherlock rounded the bed, sat next to John and lifted his legs onto the bed.

They must be an odd sight. Both in their dressing gowns and a small bottle of lube and three towels between them, but John hadn’t opened his eyes.

The genius detective switched off a lamp and the room was suddenly dimly lit and cozy, again. The suddenness of it all made John dizzy.

“OK, you know what, I’ll just close my eyes and do this. Don’t touch me. Don’t speak. If you bring me out of my concentration I’ll never climax.”

John took some lube on his hand and waited for it to warm a bit while he tried to gather some things in his mind he sometimes used to help him to get over this fast. He spread the thick liquid over his prick, but this was not at all like wanking usually was, it had a clinical feeling to it or was like washing himself, but it had nothing arousing.

He felt his erection leaving. Reminding himself to think about good sex he had, he thought about the feeling of a swelling clitoris between his fingers, or the sensation of slowly pushing into his partner for the first time. He flinched when he heard Sherlock shifting minutely next to him, this felt so exposed and… just odd.

“Feel free to do as I do. I mean, copy my actions, so you learn how to do it.” This would at least keep Sherlock busy and might shift his attention a bit, this would be less awkward if Sherlock participated and did the same.

The other man said nothing, had probably taken the order to keep quiet literally.

John had decided before that his flat mate had allowed him to participate in his very vulnerable state, now, he should be able to at least show the same trust by letting him watch how an orgasm happened, but it was easier said than done.

He shoved the blanket away enough so it was actually possible to see what his hands where doing, but kept his legs covered as much as possible. Then he reached for one of the small towels and put it in easy reach. Concentrating on arousing images in his mind, he gently shoved the foreskin back.

It took some time until he was hard again, an unusual amount of time in fact. Normally this would only take a minute or two, but Sherlock’s presence made it hard to concentrate. He tried to pretend the other man wasn’t there, it helped a bit. As did the fact that Sherlock didn’t move at all.

John tried to rub and circle the glans, with his fisted hand and sometimes with his flat hand, but the things that usually brought him over the edge fast had not the desired effect. It took very long and yes, it made him aroused, but not in way that it should have. Not in a way that longed for more and left him shivering with need.

He tried harder and reminded himself to use his fantasies, that always worked, imagine things he liked. He concentrated in letting go, because that was probably the problem, he wasn’t relaxed enough.

It didn’t work.

After about ten minutes he decided something needed to be different, maybe it was because he was sitting up to much, usually he was in a more lying than sitting position. He had chosen to half sit to feel less exposed and more in control of the situation. But it was no use, he sighed and moved down the bed a bit into a more prone position, not opening his eyes, it would bring him out of his concentration even more to be reminded of Sherlock’s presence.

When he had settled down again and resumed stroking himself with a new dollop of lube, he felt the blanket move a bit, it probably followed gravity after his movements.

This was a bit easier, the relaxed position was good, his arousal heightened, or was the fact that he was more exposed adding to it?

He concentrated on letting go, on having an orgasm to speed things up, but after another five minutes he realized that his dick’s skin was getting slightly irritated he was nowhere near orgasm. It wasn’t working. Shit!

He let his arms fall to his sides in surrender and sighed. Great! It hadn’t happened often before that he had failed to do this. Part of him felt ashamed, another part was aroused and unnerved from being not satisfied.

He lifted his forearm to rest over his eyes and tried to get deeper into a mindset that should work. But he couldn’t find one.

When he heard a soft sniffing noise he lifted his arm and looked over at Sherlock.

Reality hit him hard. Sherlock next to him was so wrong and odd it killed the rest of the illusion. Sherlock was still in his half sitting position, without moving much he had lowered his head a bit and must have been near where John’s lightly lubed hand had been.

John moaned in frustration. Was Sherlock revolted by the smell of sex? But when the doctor lifted his eyes to meet his, there was only curiosity in Sherlock’s expression.

“Sorry, I can’t Sherlock… it’s not working like this.”

“Am I supposed to stay silent longer?”

“No, no, it’s OK, I am having performing problems, you might as well say it.”

“Usually you are done with this within five to ten minutes. Where is the problem?”

John had an angry remark on his tongue before reminding himself that Sherlock was not saying this to be mean but because he was processing data. John covered his erection with the duvet.

“I guess I am not used to have a bystander, it’s making it hard to relax and get to the level of arousal I need to have an orgasm. I feel very exposed.” He explained.

“That is what is feeling exposed, when you feel the urge to hide and roll into a ball and…”

“Yes, glad you understand.”

“I felt like that when we… you helped me last time. I thought it was a feeling that was normal while doing this.”

“Oh…” John had assumed Sherlock had felt like this back then, had done everything to make him feel safe and relaxed, but had not told Sherlock this was not a normal thing during sex… at least not in this variation of sex. ”Sherlock… usually this feeling is not…. should _not_ happen when you are intimate. Usually you trust your partner, and there should be nothing that feels weird or bare.”

“I thought people were naked during sex.”

“They are, I was referring to the mental state, the feeling…. Usually you trust your partner and if you feel exposed or uneasy something is _not_ right.”

“You feel uneasy right now.”

“Yes. Though for different reasons than you did back then, I feel examined, my sexuality analyzed and like a lab rat.”

“Obviously, not only a feeling, I am analyzing your sexuality. Why is it not good to feel like reality is?”

“Shit….” John flipped the bedcover back and started to get up.

“Wait.” Sherlock tugged at a fold of his sleeve. ”I watched some porn.”

“Yes?” John freed himself a bit unnerved.

“Can I… may I take a look?” Sherlock was up and standing in his way.

“At what?”

“I want to touch.” The genius simply stated.

John closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

Sherlock gently shoved him back into a sitting position, much more gentle than John had expected his touch would be, his eyes widened in surprise.

“Lie back.” Sherlock instructed and pressed against his shoulder. John fought against lying back for a moment but Sherlock unceremoniously lifted his legs back onto the bed before returning to his former sitting place. He sat in a lotus seat and John surrendered, this was even more feeling like a lab rat in an experiment. Desperately he closed his eyes, he had been so stupid to agree to this, now he had to get through with it. He waited for whatever Sherlock would do to happen. He’d just endure it and get it over with.

A moment later he gasped, when something very slick touched the tip of his glans firmly, pressing onto the opening, the pressure started moving in slow circles and John opened his eyes in surprise, the tip of Sherlock’s thumb was indeed pressed against the small orifice, moving slowly.

This was feeling incredibly good and John closed his eyes again. ”Shit.”

The touch vanished.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to….”

John opened his eyes. Sherlock looked frightened.

“No. You didn’t hurt me. It just felt…. It was intense…I was surprised… More intense than I expected.”

“May I touch it again?”

“Knock yourself out.” John surrendered once more.

The touch resumed, but it was much gentler and slower now.

His soft prick was picked up with one hand and once more a fingertip moved over the tip. He flinched, it was sensitive.

Then the grip tightened around his whole shaft and a moment later the massaging pressure returned to draw small circles around the tiny opening.

After a few moments the touch changed, the flat palm of Sherlock’s hand moved in circles over the tip of the glans with firm pressure that immediately provoked a response. He felt the blood return to his dick and his erection was back within moments.

“Oh!” He heard Sherlock’s surprised muttering. “Does it always happen like this?” He whispered.

“Mmmm.” John answered, but it was more a moan than he had planned it to be.

The sudden reappearance of the erection had not only surprised Sherlock.

The touch on the tip vanished while the one around his shaft stayed and the next thing he felt was a generous amount of lube was squeezed onto the erection.

He sucked in air, it was cold and before he had adjusted Sherlock’s hand started to move. He lost track which hand did which fast, the genius’ hands were moving too fast and followed complex patterns.

Surprised he realized he had let himself sink into the sensation fully and without resistance. The man had skilled hands, not only when it came to a violin. John relaxed, his anxiety suddenly gone, he no longer felt exposed, it had changed to pleasure within seconds and was overwhelming.

Sherlock’s movements were speeding up and John was once more surprised when he heard himself moan unintentionally.

“Shh… Sher….” He whispered, overwhelmed by the intensity. This was far better than getting off himself.

“You want me to stop?” The other man asked in a low voice.

“No… no.”

“Then shut up, I am experimenting.”

This time the idea made John chuckle, like this it was amazing to play the lab specimen. It was amazing.

He gasped once more when one of Sherlock’s fingers moved over his groin, going down the cleft slowly, while the other continued it’s ministrations. He vaguely remembered doing this to Sherlock. It was incredibly arousing and his body tensed up with delight.

He heard Sherlock snicker and a moment later he felt his orgasm approaching. He felt he was now breathing through his open mouth and his head was tilted back.

Sherlock returned to massage the tip of his glans and with a loud gasp John came, not able to prolong the experience in the slightest.

Waves of pleasure pumped out his come and while the orgasm was still rushing over him all touch vanished.

He was not sure how long it had lasted, but it had been a nice intense orgasm, better than many he had had in the past years. When he opened his eyes he saw Sherlock leaned over him, looking once more frightened, his hands frozen in mid air, about ten inches away from his now slack penis and covered in sticky white semen.

The surprised and amazed/frightened look on Sherlock’s face made him lift his eyebrows.

“Sherlock?” he panted.

“I… This was… I am not sure…. Did I hurt you?”

“No… No… why?… It was amazing.” It really was.

“You seemed to be in pain… your face… you looked like… I mean… you sounded like…”

He had made more sounds than panting and moaning a bit?

“No, it was… this felt really good, Sherlock. It was fine, it was great in fact.”

“I… you sounded not like the men in porn.”

John let his head sink back into the pillow. ”Probably, only porn stars sound like that when having an orgasm… real people sound… different.”

“Oh…”

“And you didn’t look like them either.”

“Didn’t you say you looked into amateur porn when you were working on that case?”

“It said so, but maybe it was… not as real as it should be.”

“We’ll see into that, later.”

“It also didn’t look this… messy… and sticky… and it smells like…” Sherlock sniffed, not really looking pleased.

“Yes, sex is messy and smelly. That’s what it is like.” He had taken care of minimizing these factors when he had ’helped’ his genius friend but now Sherlock’s hands were covered in his come and he knew it probably wasn’t the most pleasurable sensation for somebody with his heightened senses.

“Go wash it off then.”

“Can I look at it in the microscope?” Sherlock sounded hopefully.

“Not today. Just wash it off, will you.”

John covered his flaccid sticky member with one of the towels and then dragged the duvet back over himself, he closed his eyes.

Shit, this was really really amazing. It had felt much better than he had ever felt being jerked off. Of course some women had done this to him, but it had never been like this, never this intense. How was Sherlock doing this, having no experience with wanking?

Totally relaxed John slipped back into sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the first two parts of this series to find out how John helped out a desperate Sherlock who was experiencing arousal consciously for the first time and managed rather badly trying to solve this problem on his own. 
> 
> Feedback welcome.


	3. Some other need that won’t go away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is distressed with something new.

John woke hours later and entered the kitchen after having a shower, Sherlock was working and made it quiet clear that he would not appreciate interruptions.

Since they didn’t talk at all, there was no communication about their ‘experimenting session’ either. Sherlock was working on something John was glad he knew nothing about. The samples he was analyzing looked quite disgusting. At least they didn’t smell that bad.

 

The next morning they were called in by Lestrade and the case turned out to be a six, but nevertheless Sherlock was not eager to leave the house. At the crime scene his bad mood turned into insulting within minutes.

The genius detective looked tired and had dark rings under his eyes. John had tried to convince him to get some sleep last night, but it was no use. Something was off, but John was out of his depth what it might be.

When they were done the DI seemed almost relieved to say to his goodbyes to them.

Grumbling Sherlock called a cap and they headed back home. He seemed distracted and secluded the rest of the day, retreated to his room and spent several hours in his bed, John found out when he tried to bring him some tea.

John realized that his friend had behaved similar when he had had problems due to built up sexual tension before, but by now Sherlock should be able to recognize the sensation and know to address it, especially since his new discovered eagerness to carefully explore the pleasures of the body. Or had something scared him off John didn’t know about.

 

In the evening John finally decided to address the other man's behavior, while washing the dishes after dinner. Sherlock had eaten and was now sitting at his microscope.

“Hey, you seem very tense and distracted today, what is it?”

“I’m not distracted.”

“Oh, come on, are you unsettled about our ‘experiment’?”

“No.”

“What is it then? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“Sherlock, look at me.”

Sherlock didn’t.

“What is the problem then?”

“There is no problem.”

“Hey, it’s me. Talk to me.” The doctor gently pushed Sherlock away from the microscope and tried to look him in the eyes. ”If there is a problem with what we did I deserve to know.”

“There is no problem! Don’t touch me.”

Sherlock tried to evade the touch in general, didn’t like being touched. Now maybe they were getting a bit closer to the problem, this hadn’t happened before. Sherlock, had never behaved like this before, forbid him to touch.

“I’m sorry.” John lifted his hands in a sign of surrender. Once more the doctor was reminded of the situations before, when Sherlock had been struggling with his sexual needs, not able to express it until it had given him serious discomfort or even pain for days.

He should know by now that John would help, would not judge him for being inexperienced or in need in general. But John decided to give him some space for the moment and come back to it later.

He did an hour later when Sherlock was typing an answer to someone who had posted a request at his homepage, he sat down opposite of him at the dinner table.

“Sherlock, you know that if you're in need of release you should tell me, do you?”

“Yes.” The other man simply stated.

John waited for more, but nothing came.

“So, what do you need?”

Sherlock let his hands sink and closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, as if mustering the patience for this conversation.

“I don’t know.” He answered finally, and it sounded genuine.

“Is it arousal?” John tried to help.

“Why should it be, I was aroused only a few weeks ago and you assisted in removing the issue.”

“Well, some people might get aroused more often than once every other year, or maybe by…. Let's say witnessing others be aroused, or… having an orgasm.” He smiled at the detective.

“Right, you already said that a few months ago, while explaining why people watch porn.”

“Indeed, I did. So are you in need because of our… activities before?”

“I am not sexually in need.”

“So, what do you need?”

“I already said that I don’t know.”

“Does that mean there is a need and you just can’t sort it out?” John carefully leaned a bit closer.

Sherlock kept his silence for some long moments and then nodded.

“Alright. I’m just worried, mate.”

The clueless genius huffed in disgust.

“Is there something you want, I mean if you can’t figure out what you feel, could you image something that would make it better?”

“That’s just another way to ask what you asked before, and I don’t know what my body wants, it is just behaving annoying.”

“What is it doing, then?”

“I don’t know. I feel cold and… empty.”

“Have you eaten anything else than dinner with me today in the last two days?”

“John…” Sherlock said in a warning tone.

“I know you're not stupid, Sherlock, but you tend to forget to eat… But since we just did it should be fine by now.”

The former army doctor reached for his friend’s hand, which was quite cold.

“Shit, you really _are_ cold.”

“That’s what I just said, didn’t?” Sherlock dragged his hand away with a grimace.

“Why don’t you want to be touched?”

Sherlock frowned. ”I don’t know.”

“You never refused my touch like this. Are you repulsed by what we did yesterday?”

“Of course not, it was very enlightening.”

“Oh.” John rubbed a hand over his own lips, deep in thoughts. ”Then you were OK with it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Would you allow me to do the same to you?”

Now Sherlock hesitated for a long time.

“Maybe… If need arises.”

“So you are definitely sure you are not aroused.”

Sherlock demonstratively looked down at his groin, which caused John to desperately bite his lips in order not to giggle.

“I _am_ not.”

“What happens when I touch you?”

“I don’t know.” Sherlock was still not looking at John, as if avoiding his gaze totally.

“Are you feeling repelled?”

“No, it’s making it worse.”

“What gets worse?”

“Whatever ‘it’ is.” Sherlock still looked away.

“Why are you ashamed?”  
“I’m not ashamed. I am very seldom ashamed, as you know.”

John rolled his eyes. _Why the hell were all those things so very difficult with Sherlock?_

“Yes, true.” John admitted, then stood up, deciding to do an experiment on his own.

At first John thought it was ridiculous, but then remembered Sherlock had spent much time in bed earlier.

“Come on.” He took Sherlock by the elbow, and gently dragged him up.

Sherlock sighed but followed, shutting his laptop with one hand, he was obviously fighting the impulse to get free with force.

John guided him towards his room and when they reached his bed pushed him into it.

“I’m not tired.”

“Yes, you are. But this is not about sleep, this is about unwinding. Are you able to tolerate another massage? You tied up in knots.”

“No.” Sherlock curled into a very tight ball.

“Do you feel better like that?” John probed. ”I mean does it feel good to lie like that?”

“Maybe, I don’t know.”

That was more than ‘no’ at least. John needed to do some detective work.

Something suddenly started to dawn in his mind. They had done something else in that bed that was neither massaging nor really sexual but that Sherlock had responded quite strong to.

John had touched him in several different ways that could be described as holding Sherlock or putting pressure on him one way or another.

The doctor had wrapped him in a tight embrace when Sherlock had kicked himself into subspace. Maybe it was even a real sub drop that happened afterwards and made John decide to give him physical comfort like that, holding him tight.

Sherlock had responded quite intense to it. But that was not the first time, there was something else even before that, something Sherlock had demanded on his own, not with words but with strong gestures. A dire need: he had taken John’s hand and pressed it over his eyes and brows, it was such a vulnerable and trusting gesture, that oddly seemed to be even more intimate than being touched at his private parts.

John remembered the words they had used after it all, when Sherlock was distressed or in sub drop after John had helped him to orgasm.

“Are you in a kind of… turmoil, that _I_ could help resolve?”

Sherlock said nothing but his expression was clear, John could but Sherlock didn’t dare to say it, which was not like the other man who usually broadcasted his needs quite ruthlessly.

John went to get a clean linen and two soft blankets from the living room.

He put the blankets flat and outstretched on the bed and on top of it the white sheet.

“Can you roll over and sit up a bit, give me some more space to work?”

When Sherlock moved further to the edged of the bed and uncurled enough to half sit to see better John placed the blanket staple in the middle of the mattress.

“What is that for?”

“An experiment.”

Sherlock huffed. ”I said I am not in need for sexual assistance.”

“I won’t do anything that is related to any kind of sexual interaction. Trust me. It'll be just good and warm and comfy.”

 


	4. Immobilization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tries something.

“I won’t do anything that is related to any kind of sexual interaction. Trust me. It'll be good and warm and comfy. I want to put pressure on your body in terms of helping you relax, nothing more than resolve that tension. We have done this before, remember? Would that be OK with you?”

Sherlock grunted, obviously not yet ready to surrender to John's ministrations. John couldn’t see his face, the genius detective had his back turned to him and was still curled up. He also was currently not very sharp in the task to resolve his problem that manifested in a bad mood, and John doubted Sherlock would lie to him about it being not sexual. This was something else, but his friend was unable to manage it.

“Are you in _that_ kind of… _turmoil_ , that kind that could be eased by pressure?” John asked, and without waiting for an answer rested a deliberately heavy hand on the side of Sherlock’s turned away head, following the curve of his temple forward and then stopped when his fingers rested on his forehead, just to remind him what kind of turmoil he meant.*

Sherlock exhaled deeply and John could feel him relax slightly.

_Good, message received._

Sherlock minutely nodded and John pulled his hand back.

_Blimey, he had been dead on._

“Give me your duvet.”

The doctor knelt down on the bed on the side opposite from where Sherlock was lying and tucked at the cover Sherlock had tightly wrapped around himself.

The detective didn’t look as if he liked the idea.

“You'll get it back as soon as you're on top of these blankets. Come over here.”

Sherlock hesitated briefly but then positioned himself in the middle of the blankets, the doctor hurried to cover him again.

“Why do you still have your shoes on?”

“Cold.”

“Right.”

John leaned over and opened the shoelaces and immediately Sherlock kicked off the shoes, then shoved them off the bed and tried to curl onto his side once more, but John didn’t let him.

“No, stay on your back for a moment, you can rest on your side in a moment if you want to.”

John folded the extra long eiderdown in half and placed it back over his genius roommate, then flattened it as much as possible, Sherlock’s feet were sticking out and Sherlock once more tried to pull them up under the cover.

“No, no, no. And bend your arms over your chest.”

Sherlock crossed his arms.

“No, not like that.”

Sherlock relaxed his arms but didn’t move them, obviously at a loss what John wanted him to do. Maybe even stiffer than before because he dreaded what might be coming.

The doctor looked down at him and wondered what he was waiting for, when nothing happened he reached for Sherlock’s wrists and lifted his hands, then folded them back down over the bedspread gently.

He felt Sherlock kind of relaxed with his touch.

_So this was good, it was not that his touch was fended now, not too bad then. Or had Sherlock refused it before because he had longed for it so much he couldn’t stand to know he couldn’t get it, it made him worse?_

“Oh, we’re doing a mummy-impression?” Sherlock said dryly.

“Kind of, yes. Relax. Let me do the work.”

John started to lengthen each touch that was necessary to achieve his goal, just to find out if his thesis might be right and - maybe even more interesting - if moving or manhandling Sherlock was a good thing in general.

He picked up the corners of the blankets and folded the lower part up over Sherlock’s feet, then continued to drape the sides over him, creating a large wrap with Sherlock in the middle.

When he leaned over Sherlock’s head, which was the only thing that was still visible,

he put his hand once more over Sherlock’s hairline and fondly looked at him.

Sherlock had closed his eyes, and now leaned his head heavily into the touch, which made John relax too. He had done the exactly right thing. He rubbed his thumb over the other man’s temple and it seemed to drag most of the tension out of the man.

“Does it feel good?”

Sherlock nodded, it was an odd situation.

“Then let your body relax totally and just breathe. Feel how your body and mind just enjoy this."

John expected him to complain that it was boring any minute.

Sherlock just breathed for a few moments and then spoke.

“John…… Can you… Can you make it… tighter?”

John hadn't seen this coming.

“I made it in a way it would not restrain you, made it so you could wind out of it easily.”

“I don’t want to wind out, make it tighter, please.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Of course.” Sherlock said through gritted teeth. Asking for it must have cost him nerves. John knew already that asking for things related to physical needs was a problem, as was asking for help in general, so this didn’t surprise him.

John unwrapped him and Sherlock was absolutely passive, allowed him to reposition his arms so that his shoulders would be in a position that wouldn’t hurt with more pressure. The genius was just observing, cataloguing the sensations probably, he watched his every move from under half closed lids.

John became less insecure about moving him and fondly, maybe even ceremoniously put a pillow half under and half between his knees to protect them from pressing against each other, then did the same with his feet.

He was suddenly reminded of an evac immobilization, this looked a bit like patient restraining to prevent injuries during transport. Padded and wrapped tight.

The fact that Sherlock just let every move happen, let John manhandle him gently, revealed something else to John.

 _He was given trust, a large amount of it, too._ The touches seemed to coax Sherlock into relaxation.

_What was happening right now was important!_

Being moved by John was important, too.

_Was Sherlock this much in need of touch?_

He tightly tucked one side of the blanket under Sherlock's side, then repeated the procedure on the other side. It indeed looked like a padded mummy and the former soldier doubted that Sherlock could wriggle out of it on his own.

The doctor put his hand back on Sherlock’s head and felt him relax, sink deeper into the mattress.

“Better?”

Sherlock exhaled with a brief ‘hm’ and John realized this was exactly what his friend had needed. Touch and someone else taking over control, though he doubted he had understood it yet, some genius he was when it came to his own physical needs.

But the tight wrapping was also something good. The idea had come to John because he remembered that Sherlock had asked for being held tight on both their earlier sexual encounters, or for John to press down on parts of his body.

Once more John was reminded of themes he had read in the BDSM book, about being unable move and entrust a partner with movements, it made John wonder if the needs and mechanics that were at work with BDSM were similar to those he was currently facing here.

He decided to read that book from cover to cover to understand the ideas and solutions it presented. He'd need to translate all those into a Sherlock-compatible mindset but it would certainly give him more ideas and strategies, not in the sense of sex but in general.

He also remembered that some patients could be soothed by heavy blankets that pressed down on them and wondered if this was the same mechanism, worked well with some kinds of mental issues and many others.

There was something about deep pressure touch stimulation and the release of serotonin and endorphins, he needed to take a deeper look at the medical side of this, too. He mentally thanked that former girlfriend for giving him the book.

When he looked down at Sherlock again his breathing had deepened and he looked quite relaxed. John needed to stay with him, not being able to move could do the opposite, too, cause anxiety or panic rather fast, and he needed to make sure in this case he could unwrap Sherlock soon.

“I will stay with you, can I go get my book?”

“Hm.” Sherlock answered, clearly a yes in the tone.

“OK, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“I don’t need to be babysitted, you can come back later.” Sherlock mumbled.

But John ignored him and when he returned Sherlock seemed already half asleep. He had not fetched his whodunit but the BDSM book and sat down on the bed again, he wanted to be close, just in case.

He started to read.

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

*Sherlock had suffered from sub drop without even knowing it in the first part of the series.


	5. Talking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters are not mine, no copyright infringement intended. Just playing.

“Sherlock, can you tell me a bit more about what happened last night?”

“Could you be a bit more specific?”

“Yes, what did that do to you, being unable to move?”

“Oh.” Sherlock hesitated.

"What gave you the idea to try it?"

“No idea. Some impulse. Can't really describe it.”

“What did you like about it?”

“The pressure was relaxing, and I must say this might be the most efficient sleeping aid I ever tried.”

Sherlock had indeed fallen asleep quite fast, despite his obvious problems with insomnia.

“Though, I must say there are factors that seem to be more appalling in hindsight,” Sherlock was deliberately vague.

“For example?” John was having none of it.

Now Sherlock needed a very long time until he answered.

“I might prefer if the pressure is executed not indirectly?” He vaguely stated.

“What does that mean ‘indirectly’?”

“It's the opposite of directly.”

John rolled his eyes.

“I’m not stupid. Explanation? What would be direct then?”

“You executing the pressure.”

“Oh.” John just made.

It dawned on him that he had pressed down on Sherlock's wrists and his head during their second?….. Second Sexual session?

_God, he didn’t even know how to call what they did._

“So feeling or being restrained does nothing for you?”

“I don’t know. What does it matter?”

“Ehh.” John hesitated. “Mmm, not sure. But as you might know there are sexual varieties where being chained, gagged or immobilized is important.”

Sherlock simply kept his silence, not offering any more insights.

The doctor was sure he wasn’t able to list them, even if he knew how important this was.

“Sherlock, you trusted me. Allowed me to move your body, allowed me to put you into a state where you were absolutely helpless and you relaxed, that is…..”

The genius’ head jerked up, he seemed surprised about this insight.

“Not good?” Sherlock appeared alarmed.

“No, it’s fine. More than fine, actually. I feel honored by the trust you gave me. You know, this might be even more intimate than allowing me to touch your private parts. It was a very nice thing to do, trust me this profoundly.”

“You know I trust you.”

“I do, but this was more than trust. I touched you, you relied on me doing the right thing and you trusted me with your body.”

“I didn’t know my body wanted this before you did it the first time. It felt so new and so strange and I couldn’t allow myself to like it, or to want it.”

“What?”

The remark kind of didn’t fit into the conversation from John’s POV.

“When did I do this first?”

“After the first……. With all the blankets, it felt good.”

“Oh.”

John had wrapped Sherlock in his duvet, than put a folded blanket in his back, than rolled himself in another duvet and had wrapped-spooned Sherlock's padded form, circled his arm around it, held him, to counteract the sub drop Sherlock experienced.

“What felt good about it?”

“I was never sure what ‘feeling safe’ meant, it was enlightening. It might even fit the description ‘cared for’, safe, protected, good… maybe."

John raised his eyebrows, the genius was communicating very private needs.

“I don’t like to be touched, as you know.”

“Could again you tell me why not?”

“I don’t know, it just feels bad.”

“Do you think you don’t deserve human affection?”

“I don’t understand. No. I think I deserve affection, I just don’t like to be touched, it gives me the creeps. With you touching me, it's OK but I feel like the aversion is lurking somewhere and will burry me when I allow it.”

“It didn’t happen last night, did it?”

“No, I feel I shouldn’t have..…”

“Nonsense, Sherlock. Everybody needs to be touched. You are kind of deprived of touch. But maybe this is the right moment to…. I want you to choose a word, which signals to me that my touch, or whatever I do is too much. Kind of a codeword for ‘stop’.”

“What for? I can simply say ‘stop’, can’t I?”

“Well, yes I guess you could, but this would be more accurate.”

“You are asking me for a safeword?”

“Yes. I guess I am.”

“Red.” Sherlock said without hesitation.

John felt his face blushing, he had not expected Sherlock knew the concept.

“I won’t need it.” The genius detective added.

“It’s just in case. For things like being wrapped, too, for everything that is getting too much, where you need to get out of a situation immediately.”

“Your one?”

“Oh." He should have seen this coming. “Guess I’ll join you, let’s use the traffic light code.”

“When will you need release the next time?”

John closed his eyes briefly, the feeling of being a lab rat returned.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Inform me, I’d like to continue my studies.”

“Right, as long as you promise me to inform me as well when you start to feel an urge.”

“My cycle of being in need is much longer than yours.”

“Mine it normal for a male my age.”

Sherlock just raised his eyebrows, doing a perfect Spock imitation.

 

Three weeks past and they neither spoke about sexual activities, nor tried the new found way to make Sherlock’s body relax.

A few days later Sherlock came home from Scotland Yard in a bad mood because Anderson had teased him, the case had been solved by Lestrade and Sally, and he had landed in the mud while bringing down the perpetrator.

Sherlock was beyond unnerved, he was pissed. John let him vent for about two hours, in which the genius yelled and whined, he only changed into his normal clothes after John had suggested it about twenty times.

But it wasn’t enough to soothe Sherlock, finally he took a shower, but also only after John had suggested it.

In his frustration Sherlock was even more a failure at taking care of himself or realizing his needs than usual. That was until after he was clean, when he wrapped himself in his ridiculous sheet and wandered around in the white linen. His yelling had receded at least to half force by then.

John leaned into the doorframe of the living room.

“Sherlock, can I do something to help?”

“Go and punch Anderson.” Sherlock tucked the hem of the sheet higher around his neck. He looked as if he was freezing.

“No, I meant more in the sense of soothing you, helping you in a physical way?”

“I don’t see the connection.”

“As usual, I know.”

“You want me to wrap you tight?”

“No.”

“OK. Massage?”

“NO touch!" Sherlock whined.

“Right. Well, what then?”

“Nothing, you can do nothing, John. Leave me alone.”

The former soldier frowned, Sherlock had obviously just shut a door in his face. Something was off. No need to push him further, it would only make it all worse.

 

Sherlock’s bad mood lasted two days, until a new case captivated his attention and to everybody’s relief it was a challenge and required the consulting detective’s attention for days.

They solved it on a Saturday evening with another chase through London. This time they were both dirty and soaked with sweat when they arrived at home.

John decided he needed a shower and headed for the bathroom while Sherlock pitched into the fish and chips they had bought on the way home.

John had barely washed his hair when he heard the bathroom door open and close. He cursed and turned around, peeking through the shower curtain.

Sherlock’s dark figure moved over to the toilet, obviously still clad in his coat. He sat down without undressing, probably on the closed lit.

John leaned around the shower curtain.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I want to watch you masturbating in the shower.”

John closed his eyes, unnerved, he was not in the mood and really tired.

“I don’t need to. Out.”

“I want to.”

This time John frowned. Sherlock had expressed a need, quite clearly.

“Why now?”

“I’m in the mood.”

“Sorry, but how do you suddenly _know_ when you are in the mood?”

“I want to see it again.”

“Are you aroused?”

“No.”

“In what mood are you then?”

“To watch. You like to use the shower for this purpose, I thought it has a special good-feel-factor or something.”

“Well, it’s easy, more a practical thing than a feel-good one. You know, already naked, soap is slippery, easy to clean environment, noises that hide… the noise.”

“So, this is a doctor thing, normal people don’t ejaculate in the shower?”

“They do…. Probably.” John grinned stupidly, still hidden behind the curtain.

“I tried, it was awful, I want to know if I’m doing it wrong. Show me.”

John exhaled.

_Would he be able to do it like this? He had not been aroused in the slightest, but talking about made something in him stir, not that he was aroused, but he hadn't wanked since Sherlock had…_

_Oh, that changed things, thinking about what Sherlock had done._

He felt his groin getting interested.

It was annoying, how his body reacted to the simple memory of Sherlock’s unpracticed touch. Maybe he was really suffering from the lack of a sexual partner.

“You want me to describe it? What do you want to know?” He said, hoping that talking about it would arouse him to a level that would actually make it possible to come.

John finished washing his hair, no longer afraid Sherlock would drag the curtain away or peek around it without asking.

“Precise account, please. Try my definition of precise please.”

John rolled his eyes once more.

“Good that you're not a selfish rude git, isn’t it?”

“Rude?”

“Would help to ask nicely, you know.”

“So, could you be so nice to explain to me in your own words how to do this, please?”

Sherlock’s politeness sounded so faked John laughed.

“You want to know how I like it or how I think would be good for you?”

“Both?”

“Okay, I’ll try to show you how I do it, but I won’t talk.” John continued to wash himself.

“First, switch off the big light and use the small lamp over the sink.”

Sherlock stood up and changed the light.

“Then get out of that coat, you’ll be soaked within two minutes. Maybe also get rid of the jacket.”

Sherlock left the room and came back in his shirt and dress pants.

John realized the fear and uneasiness he had experience when they had tried this the first time was no longer as intense as it had been. Of course it was awkward, but he no longer felt like his privacy was breached or ashamed, he felt like teaching things about the human body. It was not really a sexual situation, though it was intimate, but it was not like having sex, it was more physical, clinical.

They had done this already, Sherlock had touched his prick, he could go through that a second time.

His room mate stood behind the closed shower curtain, obviously insecure about what to do.

“Can I watch from there?”

John saw his hazy figure gesture towards a stool next to the sink that would enable the genius to watch behind the curtain.

“Alright.”


	6. The Tub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters are not mine, no copyright infringement intended. Just playing.
> 
> \----
> 
> Hey guys,  
> this chapter is very long. I wanted to make it up to you because it took me ages to update, (still sorry about that, RL got in the way), and I also decided to give you another chapter this week therefore.
> 
> As usual this is neither brit-picked nor betaed.
> 
> Be aware, smut ahead.

John feared he would once more have issues getting properly aroused if Sherlock spoke, but he was surprisingly quiet, biting his lips.

So the doctor closed his eyes and concentrated on imagining that he was alone.

He was just having another shower and another wank, like on a normal day where he found himself with a morning boner.

He just needed to block Sherlock out, ignore his presence and do what he usually did.

It worked, not really good but enough to go on with washing for the beginning.

Three minutes later John had washed everything but his private parts and he soaped his hands and started to gently rub his balls, then his penis.

He closed his eyes and remembered Sherlock touching him. The memory alone helped his arousal but he didn’t know if this was what he wanted. Nevertheless, for this task it was good, overall, he wasn’t sure. He had wanted to keep his feelings out of this, be the one who aids the gaining of knowledge, not getting emotionally involved.

His thoughts were sidetracking him, so stimulation didn’t work very well at first, until he started to follow his usual routine, encircled his shaft, moved up and down a bit until it hardened more, then carefully shoved back the foreskin.

He washed soundly, the touch and movement soon causing a proper erection.

The sounds of the water masked Sherlock's presence, it became easier to forget he was there.

Also, this routine was to get relief, not for particular prolonged enjoyment. He was fully hard within two minutes, by then the water washed away the soap too fast for it to be pleasurable. He turned, so that only his back was under the spray and fetched more liquid soap.

He must have been horny without knowing it, because after only about three more minutes he felt his orgasm approach and covered the top of his dick with his hand, to prevent the come from landing somewhere else than in the water.

His jerking went irratic and he came with a grunt, he leaned his forehead against the wall to catch his breath.

As usual, he blindly fumbled for the shower head, unhooked it and washed away the semen.

When he opened his eyes he was slightly surprised by the fact that Sherlock sat there.

No, of course he hadn't really forgotten the other man was there, but he had managed to completely concentrate on the task at hand, not thinking about his presence, which was kind of remarkable, now that he thought about it.

Sherlock said nothing, he just watched, hunched over, his elbows on his knees and his fingers in his typical prayer-like thinking position under his chin.

Shame rolled over John, he had just masturbated in front of his room mate.

There was only one thing that would ease this feeling, if Sherlock actually stopped watching him like that, or did the same.

“You should give it a try, come on. I'll get out and you get in.” He tried to encourage him.

Sherlock frowned, obviously surprised by the idea.

“Use your gained insight as long as it is fresh. It's not that hard to learn, just try it.” John continued.

He hadn't really expected it, but Sherlock stood up, which made it very clear that the little performance had not left him untouched. The man's dress pants were bulging over his groin.

“Oh, I see this did something for you.”

Sherlock looked down on himself, his frown becoming more intense, but he didn’t look too happy about what he saw.

Nevertheless, he sighed, slipped out of his shoes, put his watch, his cell phone and his wallet on the drawer and dragged his belt out of his pants.

John meanwhile switched off the water, shoved the curtain away and reached for his towel, then began to dry off.

As soon as he had stepped over the rim of the tub, Sherlock stepped in, fully dressed.

John’s eyes went wide with surprise, but before he had time to speak the genius had closed the curtain and switched on the water.

“What are you doing? ”

“Didn’t we just talk about this? You told me to try. ”

“I meant why are you still dressed? ”

“I like to be in clothes for this? ”

“What? Why?”

John suddenly remembered that his friend had worn clothes each time they had done this.

“Okay, but how will you reach the… important parts?”

“Now, would you start giving me useful instructions instead of bothering me with stupid questions?”

_Oh, insulting mode, somebody was not easy with this. Sherlock must be even more uneasy with it than he was._

“Sherlock, can I sit at the stool?”

“Yes.” The simple answer came.

John dressed in his pajamas and sat down, but faced the door, showing Sherlock his profile, to give him a bit more of privacy. But for a moment he stared at the back of the man who now wet himself completely under the warm shower.

_Did Sherlock need the protection of the water to undress?_

_It was odd, the man ran around the flat naked or in a sheet sometimes, not to mention that he went to Buckingham palace completely naked under his ridiculous white fabric that could slip off any moment. Which meant this was not about being naked or ashamed._

Sherlock looked tense, probably as uneasy as John had been when the genius detective had asked to watch him wanking the last time.

“Okay, so the first step is to open your trousers and get…” John finally understood that Sherlock didn’t intent to get out of the pants at all. It was not about the act of _undressing_ under the spray, he must hope to get through this while fully dressed.

“Well, you won’t get anywhere without opening the trousers.” John suggested.

Sherlock opened the button and unzipped, dragged the shirt out of his pants, which was now clinging to his upper body, as was his hair to his head, he looked like someone in the pouring rain.

He then turned towards John, without looking up. John saw that he was wearing a pair of what looked like blue briefs, with a fly and an inch broad elastic band in the waist.

With a grin, John remembered that he had seen them before when doing the laundry, it was a very exclusive and expensive brand.

Though Sherlock had folded away the waistband of his pants, what it revealed of his underwear was minimal.

“Maybe you should start with rearranging your stuff, make yourself more comfortable, you know?”

“No, I don’t, please be specific.”

John took a deep breath, another awkward situation.

“Okay, get your dick out, shove the underwear away a bit so you have access.”

Sherlock tried, without actually touching his erection, but the briefs rode up again, as expected.

“Maybe you should lower your pants.” The docten bluntly suggested what should be obvious.

“This will perfectly suffice, proceed.”

John was at a loss, for a moment, and then understood Sherlock might only be ready to use friction but not touch himself directly. On two occasions Sherlock had immediately lost all sturdiness as soon as his dick was touched, which was a bit odd, but John had not been able to find out why yet.* But it was a step into the right direction that he wanted to try it again, though his approach was a bit off.

_Why did he have such a problem with this?_

But asking him once more about this would only produce frustration, so John skipped it for now and decided to poke later.

“Right….. The best way to start is by washing your junk, but I guess this is not an option. During this process I like to get the foreskin out of the way. Soap is not the best substitute for lube, but will do as long as you don’t overdo it.”

John internally rolled his eyes about his own sentences. He sounded clinical and doubted this was a good idea.

But to his surprise Sherlock took the bottle of shower gel and squeezed out a generous amount, which he then rubbed onto the front of his briefs. This was when John decided to actually watch.

_He couldn’t direct him without knowing what happened, couldn’t he?_

Sherlock was standing sideways, facing the wall, the shower poured down his left shoulder this way, and John was now the one watching him in profile.

His penis was upright and John saw white foam form on the outside of the fabric, the bulge swelled with Sherlock's ministrations.

This was actually starting to work!

But he had to admit Sherlock didn’t look as if he enjoyed himself, his posture screamed tense, the water was running down his face, which showed a skeptical and frowning expression.

“You might want to stroke your prick upwards, mine likes that. It’s also very arousing to put pressure on top of the glans, as you have successfully tried out on me earlier.”

Sherlock moved his penis, so he could actually rub the glans, with the barrier of the fabric between skin and skin of course.

Now that John watched it, he realized something had changed, the dim light, Sherlock's statue-like form and the careful proceedings, it wasn’t awkward any longer, the trust that was in the room was huge, and it had an erotic touch that was oddly Sherlock-ish.

John tried to imagine how it must feel, the underpants must cause a lot of friction, and the wet clothes must be quite heavy. With an internal face palm he realized the pressure and the weight must be one reason why Sherlock _was_ wearing clothes in the shower, to generate sensory input.

_Was the intention to ground himself with the sensation or was it actually heightening the arousal?_

He would find out later.

John felt the situation take effect on his own groin, it was feeling warm and cozy.

But Sherlock’s movements were clumsy and not enthusiastic, to him, John bet, the moment was totally lost.

“Okay, slow down, do this with care, try to make the touch light in the beginning, as if you want to produce goosebumps. Maybe use your nails and _slowly_ move them over your shaft.”

_This worked with women and nipples sometimes, worth a try._

“Rubbing the underside and the root of your prick might also be pleasant, try it simultaneously with the other hand.

Sherlock touched himself, his other hand moved down the outside of his dress pants. He rubbed, without any grace.

The genius tried, and John watched for a few minutes, waited for Sherlock's expression to change, waited for that moment he knew from his female partners when they started to slide into savoring the arousal and let themselves sink into the sensation. That moment when time and the surroundings stopped to matter and sensing became the main focus.

He was sure he had that expression on his face when his arousal reached a certain degree.

But Sherlock just went on, his movements didn’t speed up, there was no indication that it was doing anything for him.

“Maybe try more soap.”

Sherlock did.

“Does it help to cup you balls with your other hand?”

It didn’t.

Sherlock tried harder and his friend encouraged him, suggesting everything he had ever tried.

But instead of increasing the arousal over time, Sherlock's erection started to recede.

_The man was not at all in the right mindset, which had proven to be tricky before._

“Watching me do it helped, remember? Think about how arousing it was to watch me.”

Sherlock bit his lips in concentration and John smiled, but doubted this would work any longer and would frustrate the other man soon.

“Maybe you should think of it like doing strokes with your bow… careful and slow, with a distinct sense of the touch. You know, a bit more passion.”

This caused a surprising reaction.

Sherlock suddenly let go of everything, his hands sagged to his sides and he leaned forward, his forehead on the tiles in defeat.

John could see his boner leave.

_Shit, what was wrong about that? Sherlock's posture broadcasted frustration._

“Sorry, what did I do wrong?”

“Do not compare this in any way to anything related to my violin.” Sherlock sounded almost resentful.

“I’m sorry, mate…. Sorry.”

The doctor stood up.

“I just wanted to underline that you should be gentle with yourself, you have very skilful hands, why are you so clumsy here? When you touched me it was….” John blushed. “It was marvelous. You figured out the right pressure and where I liked it within moments, why not now? Why not on yourself?”

“I don’t know.” Sherlock hissed through his teeth.

“Can I try something? It would involve touching you.”

Sherlock clenched his teeth but after a long moment of thinking he nodded, he must have realized minutes ago this was getting him nowhere but too stubborn to just give up.

John thought about stimulating Sherlock from outside the shower, but now discovered he longed to find out how it felt to stand in the shower fully clothed.

So he stepped into the shower in his pajamas. Since Sherlock was between him and the spray it would take time to get wet, but the legs of his trousers started slowly to cling to his legs where the water reached, the fabric soaking up the liquid, it was not really pleasant.

Sherlock watched him wearily from between hair that was in his face.

“Close your eyes, face the showerhead.”

This would be better for Sherlock, distracting him on one hand, and John wouldn't be soaked through within seconds and then freezing.

Sherlock followed the instructions, standing tense and stock still.

The doctor slowly reached around the taller man with his left, starting by just cupping Sherlock's erection, then he slowly started to explore the lump and the groin area.

The foreign touch caused Sherlock to suck in air, tensing up even more.

“Relax. This _will_ feel good.”

As before, the words actually helped the fraught man, he minutely relaxed.

John slowly stoked up and down over the slick wet fabric, then took more soap and continued.

When Sherlock had a minute to get used to the touch he brought in his other hand, intensified the rubbing a bit more, with heightened pressure at the root.

Sherlock's spine straightened and his erection returned.

John was unbelievably relieved. This was the first time he actually really touched Sherlock's dick and the man’s reaction was not the immediate vanishing of the erection. Right now, the opposite was happening, the bloodflow was returning. But Sherlock wouldn't really relax.

“That’s it, you need to built up slowly so your body can adjust.”

John sped up, very slowly and carefully, now and then just massaging the sides of the glans, then going down and carefully kneading his balls. He made sure his movements were soft and calm.

When Sherlock showed no sign of repulsion he moved his hand inside the dress pants to cup his balls, always with great care not to touch bare skin.

Sherlock sighed and relaxed a bit more.

“Reach out and lean against the wall with your hands, this might help you relax.” John adviced.

Sherlock stiffly did as asked, but this posture made it more difficult for John to reach around him. He hadn't expected that.

_Worked well with the girlfriends he had been in the shower with, but that was probably because they had been the same high as him._

“Relax.” He softly suggested.

He did his best to bring Sherlock closer to orgasm, and finally the genius breathing sped up, but from there on, no matter what John tried, it stayed on that level.

The doctor tried for some more minutes, then gave up.

They needed to do _something_ different.

“Hey, this won’t work, you need to get out of your head and into it, you need to _let go_.”

“Can’t.” Sherlock hissed, clearly stressed out by the situation. “Won’t work.”

“This position is quite hard to let go, I know, maybe we should try something that makes it’s easier to relax.”

Easier said than done, John realized. He turned Sherlock around and made him sit on the rim, leaning against the wall, but the edge was to small and it took too much effort to only sit steadily.

“Sit in the tub.” He suggested and turned them both around their own axis, so John had the steep end of the tub with the shower head in his back. His rear was soaked immediately.

Sherlock frowned, obviously not sure he wanted to.

To encourage him, John knelt down, now for the first time understanding why someone had built in _this_ tub.

I looked vintage, but was rather large. He had always enjoyed the fact that it was possible for him to sit reclined with outstretched legs. It wasn’t one of the _really_ large ones, just big enough for him to get his head under the water without too much trouble. Bigger than the standard issue. Though for the two of them it would nevertheless be a tight fit. He plugged the drain.

When Sherlock made no move to do as suggested John sat down, leaning against the steep end and raising his knees to his chest, so Sherlock had enough space to do the same.

“Come on.” John encouraged him, he was now fully in the spray and his pajamas were heavy on his shoulders, with every move it dragged over his skin, feeling tight and sticky.

Sherlock was irresolute, but finally sat down, rested his elbows on his raised knees, it looked rather uncomfortable.

“Lie back.” John suggested, then turned around and switched the water to go to the faucet and fill the tub.

“John, maybe we should…… I….”

“Sherlock, lie back.” John said again, his voice as soothing as possible.

Sherlock closed his eyes and reclined, finally he rested his back against the shallow end. But he reflexively closed his raised knees, blocking John's view and he lifted his left arm and rested his forearm over his eyes.

John moved forward, he shifted so he knelt in the tub again, very careful not to touch Sherlock while he moved. When the detective tried to sit up again John leaned over and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“No, stay like that, keep your eyes closed.”

He moved both of Sherlock's knees to one side so they leaned against the rim of the tub, resting his hand on the other man’s solar plexus, allowing him to adjust to the touch once more.

“Relax.”

Sherlock was not giving him access and he considered getting out of the tub, but that would make a mess.

Instead, he fetched a large towel, formed a pillow and put it in the water under his knees. This brought him height and protected his knees from the hard surface. While handling it, he realized how heavy a wet towel felt and reached for another one, which he wetted thoroughly and then placed it over Sherlock's chest, who raised his arm and opened his eyes to see what was happening.

“Good?”

The genius detective nodded.

The water had reached a height of five inches and John reduced the flow to a minimum, to keep the background noise going but slow down the filling of the tub as much as possible.

“Close your eyes.”

Sherlock did as told and John carefully opened Sherlock's knees, so that one rested on the left and the other one on the right side of the tub. Sherlock resisted briefly but when John returned his hand to his solar plexus once more he gradually relaxed his abdominal muscles and then his legs.

This left John with good access to his groin area.

Very gently he moved the fronts of the dress pants away as much as possible.

Then he returned to moving his flat hand up and down Sherlock's softened erection with great care, with not too much pressure, but not tickling either.

Sherlock tensed briefly, only to relax a few moments later when John, with one hand, held his private parts and with the fingers of the other massaged the glans through the fabric.

John’s mind stepped back and watched the scene.

Sherlock, lying in front of him, his legs wide open, in a pose that was extremely erotic. Had someone suggested this to him, he would have shaken his head about the absurdness of the idea, but this was… nice.

His pajama bottoms had become tighter during the past minutes.

The doctor continued to stroke and massage Sherlock's once more growing erection, using touches he liked himself when wanking.

Over the time of about ten minutes Sherlock relaxed more and more. His cock becoming really hard again.

It made John become a bit bolder and he intensified his efforts, when he rubbed his thumb over the tip of Sherlock's glans the other man exhaled deeply and started to breathe through his open mouth.

John added more liquid soap. It was not easy to make the fabric move, he dragged it every now and then to get it free and cause more friction.

_Would this bring Sherlock to climax? Some months ago he had no idea how to make Sherlock adapt to touch his dick himself, and here they were, finally, carefully nearing to goal. But he would take one step at a time, be very careful._

He sped up his movements, reached once more into the dress pants and started to massage the balls gently.

It had the desired effect, Sherlock’s breathing sped up and John decided to try to bring him to the edge. Prolonging this for too long wouldn't be good.

By now Sherlock had totally relaxed, his legs were open as wide as the small space allowed, heavily and limp.

The doctor concentrated on massaging with up and down movements on the sides of Sherlock's dick.

It didn’t take long until he felt Sherlock tense up under him, the man was coming closer.

From their first two sessions John knew Sherlock's orgasms peaked quite slow and very intense. He watched the other man’s reactions closely.

The moment Sherlock started to tremble he knew it would be at most another minute.

He continued to stroke up and down now almost completely reaching around Sherlock's dick, the fabric was way more elastic than John had thought, it produced a second skin. But his faster movements also moved the fabric a bit downwards, with every up and down a bit more. He made sure the glans was getting attention, too.

Finally the tip of the glans peeped out of the waistband of the brief, while the elastic was adding pressure to it’s sides.

Sherlock was already beyond being able to differentiate what exactly touched were, at least John hoped so.

He intentionally worked on lowering the fabric even more, he also wanted to reach around the entire length of the stiff penis to be able to produce pressure all around with his entire hand.

Sherlock’s trembling intensified and he was panting now, shallow fast little breaths.

And John decided to be even bolder nevertheless.

Very slowly he made sure the naked tip of the glans stayed free and started to move his thumb over it, then moved in circles over the bare skin, with a firm pressure, precum provided the necessary lubrication.

“Haaaa.” Sherlock loudly sucked in breath and immediately reached the phase where it looked like he might convulse.

John was afraid that he had done the wrong thing when Sherlock’s face contorted.

His sudden orgasm shook his whole body, the water sloshed back and forth in the tub.

It looked so intense and breathtakingly overwhelming, John was sure it also felt exactly like it looked for the sensible man.

The genius held his breath while streaks of come pulsed out.

In order to let him ride it out without any disturbances John removed his hands.

He felt his own prick had taken interest in the proceedings, he felt aroused again.

Finally, Sherlock exhaled and then started to breathe again, relaxing his arched spine and slowly started to return to his body.

John took his time to catalogue the inexperienced man’s reactions.

His pulse was racing.

It took almost five minutes until the genius’ breathing slowed down and he started to stir.

“Joh’?” He slurred.

“I’m here.”

Sherlock seemed to find that very reassuring, his breathing calmed further, but he was still trembling.

John waited for Sherlock to move first, not wanting to shorten a good experience. Only that his friend didn’t move, except the shivering of course.

Another three minutes and John carefully asked. “Are you alright?”

“Hmm.” Sherlock’s hum was shaky and John decided to get out of the tub and check him over. He was starting to freeze anyway, despite the warm and humid air. The wet pajama clung to him and it was everything but pleasant.

He excited the tub and it was not easy to remove the wet mess from his body. Gratefully, he wrapped himself in his dry bathrobe, then knelt down, Sherlock's forearm, now lax, was still covering his eyes.

“Hey, there, are you with me?”

John carefully rested his hand on the crown of Sherlock's head, then felt for his pulse, the wrist was in easy reach.

Sherlock heart was still beating fast and he was still trembling.

“Can you tell me how you’re doing?” The doctor lifted the arm away from the face to actually see the other man’s eyes.

“Earth to Sherlock. Open your eyes, mate.”

Very slowly, Sherlock opened dazed eyes, pupils still quite large in the dim orange light. He looked very far away.

_Woa. Had he overdone it, touching Sherlock’s naked skin?_

_Was this actually bad, had Sherlock spaced out because it felt horrible?_

“Hey, can I have a status report?”

“Hmm.”

“And?”

“Bright green.

“You’re feeling good then?”

“Overwhelmingly so. Just tired.”

Sherlock closed his eyes again.

“You really look wasted, mate.”

“’ am.”

John seemed to have send him sky-high, far higher than expected. Some aspect of that concerned the doctor, another one produced awe.

He’d really love to experience an orgasm like Sherlock, with virgin eyes and senses, exploring something new with the matureness of his age and education. It must be marvelous.

 

It was a piece of work to get Sherlock out of the tub, he was dizzy and still overwhelmed another ten minutes later.

John had unbuttoned his shirt, made him sit up in the tub, get the shirt off, removed the socks, and his vest.

The genius detective needed help to raise high enough to sit on the rim. John stabilized him and lifted him into a standing position.

“Are you sure you are OK?”

“I’m fine, John, this was just very very intense… in a overwhelming but positive way.”

They removed the dress pants and the underwear, which was easier than John had expected but nevertheless left Sherlock even more drained.

John had to support his friend on the way to his bed and Sherlock sank into it, clad only in fresh boxers.

He expected him to fall asleep immediately and leaned over him.

“Ready to sleep?”

“Stay?” Sherlock asked hoarsely.

When John opened his mouth in surprise and hesitated, Sherlock added. “Please?”

“Alright.”

He sounded as if he needed it, really needed it.

John once more covered Sherlock in his duvet, put another thick duvet between them and spooned him from behind, Sherlock had experienced a sub drop before, John was by now very worried it was happening again. Usually, this occurred after other kinds of intense sexual activity, but Sherlock had proven he could cause it like this before.**

Sherlock seemed to recognize what he was doing immediately, and relaxed with a loud exhale.

John smiled.

So much about aftercare.

Sherlock needed it at this point. It must have been indeed overwhelming and intense if he asked for their version of platonic cuddling.

“Better?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Sherlock mumbled.

John listened, it took half an hour until Sherlock's breathing indicated that he had slipped into sleep.

John then allowed himself to relax and followed him into sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * This happened in the preceeding parts of this series, I suggest reading them, otherwise this all won’t make a lot of sense.
> 
> ** Read the first part of the series to know how this happened.


	7. Frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion about the nature of their sexual encounters brings up topics John is not ready to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters are not mine, no copyright infringement intended. Just playing.

A few days later they visited a crime scene, Sherlock was unbearable once more and when they came home, for the first time Sherlock addressed intimate things without John poking and prodding.

“I need something… I couldn’t stop thinking about what you did in the tub and it is driving me mad."

“Oh?" John made. “In what way?”

“What?”

“I mean in the way of me being the one or in the way of physical release?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Depends on if you think love and intimacy are two separate things or one is a part of the other.”

“What?”

Sherlock was clearly getting even more unnerved.

“Sherlock, how would you call what we did?”

“I don’t understand.”

“If you had to explain to somebody what we did to relieve your ‘tension’, how would you call it?”

“I don’t know… sex, I suppose? Making love? That’s what it is called, isn’t it?”

“I know what it is called, I want to know what _you_ would call it.”

“I am inexperienced, stop rubbing it under my nose. I am well aware,” Sherlock hissed

“That’s not the point.”

“Whatever it is, due to the fact that we used that kind of stimulation my body seems to be prone to desiring it. It sucks.”

John giggled about the rude language. Sherlock usually didn’t use such words. But he realized some aspect of him was a bit surprised, in a negative way. He was starting to enjoy those exploring sessions and had hoped Sherlock liked them, too.  He was trying to do his best to give his friend good experiences.

“It’s totally normal to need ‘relieve’ every now and then.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Sorry, mate, but this is a completely normal human male function, I can’t help you other than assist you and suggest how to get relief. Your body started this all alone, remember?”

Sherlock growled.

“There is a huge difference between having sex and making love. What we did was out of necessity. It certainly shows a lot of affection on my part that I volunteered to assist you, but that is not the kind of affection that would be called ‘love’ in a relationship kind of way. It was more like in ‘very good friends’. Making love is something you do to worship your partner, to please him or her. It is a deeply emotional and two-sided event. What we did was to release your tension, nothing more. It was a one sided thing and I do not expect you to give anything back out of affection. This is more like a teaching situation. Do we agree?”

Sherlock frowned.

“Making love is different from having sex. The first is about care and needs, about seeing another person’s needs, on both sides of course. Making love is showing your deep feelings for someone, not having an orgasm. It means taking your time to pleasure the person you love.”

There was a long silence.

“So you have been making love to me, and I didn’t?”

The remark hit John harder than expected.

“Shit, no. We are nowhere there, this is different. You see sex as a fault, I try to educate you, we are not even close to making sex.”

“Do people really do that?”

“Yes.”

“In the tub… I felt… I received more than just release.”

“What?" Now John was the one not understanding.

“I deduce that was more than mechanics. It felt different than before. You didn’t just do it to make me ejaculate. You did it out of affection.”

“I… No.” John stammered.

“It was different from before, John. You were more like on the day you wrapped me, which was amazing. I’ve never felt like that before. The events in the tub held some similarities in how I sensed your mood, though I am unable to name it or describe the difference.”

John froze, he realized there was another kind of taking care of physical needs though it lacked sex, John putting pressure on Sherlock’s body.

_There couldn’t be more. He had planned to keep this platonic… well, platonic in a mechanical sexual way. What Sherlock described here came too close to more than affection than John wanted to feel. He was straight and this all should be with a teaching subtext._

“I studied the definitions of affection quite intensely during the past week.” Sherlock admitted.

“Studied? That is nothing you can study, Sherlock!”

“Oh, it is. The symptoms have been difficult to learn to distinguish between true affection and faked one, but during our last case my newly obtained knowledge seemed to be right. I solved the case because I understood the love of the brother-in-law to the bride, which proofed to be true, in opposite of the faked one of the husband. The bride will be forever grateful we kept her from marrying the wrong man.”

John sat down heavily. It was true. The genius had solved the case by finding out who had written all the breathtaking love letters and who behaved with true affection for the woman.

Only Sherlock could recognize true love by computing the ‘symptoms’ and adding little factors and get it right in the end.

_Shit, was he getting this right, too?_

_Was he making love to Sherlock?_

_Hell, no!_

“I really doubt you have ever loved somebody like that, Sherlock and I don’t like that you try to detect feelings you have never experienced yourself before.”

“Are you angry because I am right?”

“Of course not, this is ridiculous. Shut up!”

John had feared this afternoon would end with Sherlock running to his room, banging the door shut, but now it was him, who ran up the stairs and loudly closed the door behind him.

Sherlock had hit a sore spot and he was not ready to even think about it.

Sure, he had started to enjoy it, but he was not in love with the detective or whatever he had blindly deduced about his affection.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took ages and although I am happy with all the earlier chapters, I am not happy with this one. I kind of got stuck here and ended the story fast instead of needing another year to come up with better ideas.  
> The next stories in the series is already half written and I wanted to go on with it.  
> So check out the new one.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes, this is not my native tongue.  
> 


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